My boss dropped me at the airport around 10 on Thursday night. “What’s the name of that nude beach, again?”
“Haulover,” he said. “If you go left, you’ll be with all the gay guys. Go to the right and you’ll be good.”
We shook hands and I headed into the terminal.
After ensuring that everyone’s seat pockets were filled with Snickers wrappers and spit-out gum, Spirit Airlines allowed us to board our one-hour delayed flight.
I was seated firmly between a 6’5 hipster and a barefoot Pakistani.
I attempted to get some sleep on the concrete blocks that pass for seats on Spirit, and I managed to for about 45 minutes before my body went into a compulsive panic that every part of it was losing circulation.
I landed in Ft. Lauderdale at 6 AM local time Friday morning. While waiting for a pain-in-the-ass shuttle to my rental car place, I started chatting with a cute Asian girl also from LA. We talked for about 45 seconds before her shuttle arrived. I told her to give me her number, and she did. I never called her. My shuttle showed up 15 minutes later.
While waiting for my car, I realized that having a hotel room in Miami Beach would make my day infinitely smoother. I would be able to take a good nap, shower, and have a home base to have sex with Shakira or anyone else I ended up with that night.
I checked Expedia on my phone and found one cheap shithole right in the middle of the action (cheap meaning $160 for the night). I decided to splurge, and booked the room.
I got in my rental car, wiped out from the flight and lack of sleep, but excited to be in Miami. I plugged in my phone and started blasting tunes as I hit I-95.
In 45 minutes I was at the beach. I stashed my car in a garage and went to check out my hotel. The Yugoslavian dude at the front desk said I absolutely couldn’t have early check-in, and would have to wait until 3 PM. I would later overhear him offering early check-in to two foreigners for the price of $100. I guess he knew I couldn’t afford the bribe.
I wandered the beach for a little while, still wearing jeans, and watched sexy women, middle-aged women, gay dudes, families, and crazy hobos jogging and milling about.
I grabbed some breakfast at a little hotel’s restaurant on Collins. I ordered the steak & eggs. It came with Cuban bread, which I had never had before, and thoroughly enjoyed.
Afterwards, still too early to check in, I used my hotel’s bathroom to change into beachwear and went out to the ocean to grab some much-needed sleep.
I chatted with a few different groups of girls at the beach throughout the day. There was the group of 7s from UNC, there was the chick from Minnesota with an amazing ass. She was there with 2 thugish Latinos, and I’m pretty sure one was banging her. But I still chatted her up and got her number. We never ended up hanging again, but we did coincidentally bump into each other at breakfast the next day.
Days later, we would both continue texting when we were each back home. She gladly sent me pictures and videos of her ass while her live-in boyfriend (who had been one of the thugs) wasn’t home.
Around 2 PM I was finally able to check into my hotel. I took a shit and a long nap.
Shakira arrived late. Around 8 PM. We grabbed a quick bite at a cool Cuban diner, and headed to our first stop of the evening. It was a concert, and I had a certain hookup through work. We had a lot of fun.
After that, we headed to Brickell to check out a casual bar that had two DJs. We danced and grinded for a while. Shakira joined a dance battle to show off her skills (she dances for a living and teaches classes). Then we stopped in a beat-up old bar called Tobacco Road just to check it out, since we had heard about it earlier in the night.
While at Tobacco Road, our energy was dipping (it was already 3:30 AM). She told me she had to sober up because she had decided she was going to drive 40 minutes home instead of staying over with me.
I was disappointed and showed it a little, but not too much. I said no big deal, I’ll go back out and keep partying.
We got back to the hotel and made out a little, but then she said she was leaving.
I had been looking forward to the opportunity to bang her again for months.
I had to do something if I wanted to keep her there and get laid.
She was putting her shoes on. “It’s too bad,” I said. “We’ve never had really good sex.”
She laughed. “Really? I feel like we have.”
“We’ve only had sex twice. The first time I was pretty drunk and it was over fast. The second time you had your period.”
“Oh right. Well I remember the second time we both orgasmed at the same time though. Or I had a mini one.”
“A mini one. Ha. Exactly.” I looked off into the distance, like a cowboy. “It’s funny how first impressions color a relationship forever.”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“We had bad sex the first time, and that was a couple years ago now, but I think subconsciously you’ve always taken me less serious as someone to have sex with because of that.”
“And also the first impression from the time back when we met. I was a different person back then.”
“I had just gotten out of a long relationship and didn’t have much experience with women. I acted a certain way, and I think you still see me as that person in a way, even though other girls have a completely different impression of me now.”
“Hm, that’s interesting. I’m glad you’re bringing this up and being so honest with me.”
“It’s just funny to me,” I continued. “It’s so easy for me now with most girls, but things are always a little more… complicated with you. You moved away but I still think about you for some reason.”
“You’re definitely a special person to me,” she said. “You’re one of the people who has been significant to me. You’re one of those people to me, for sure.”
I chuckled, and sat down on the bed next to her.
Soon after, she was sucking my cock and then making her nice big booty clap around it.
While we were fucking, we realized the walls were paper thin, and there was a group of what sounded like 12 drunk black guys and girls that had just gotten home next door.
They started hootin’ and hollerin’ at us, which was distracting for me. Shakira thought they were annoying but that it would be funny to fuck with them back.
She started moaning and screaming loudly, which I found funny and arousing. Then she shouted out, “Oh… Aunt Jemima!” like she was coming.
I cocked my head at her. What the fuck was that?
It was a little weird, but sort of hilarious, and I didn’t let it stop me from the task at hand. We finished up our romp and as soon as I came, I knew that no matter what, my Miami trip had been a success.
Afterward, she got her things and I walked her to her car. Even though we had banged a year or two before, this felt like a new notch because I had wanted it so badly, and had to work hard to get it.
The next morning, I slept as long as I could and checked out at the last possible minute.
I stashed my bag in my car, and headed to a 4-star hotel where I planned to wash up. It turned out I had a friend from high school who worked at the spa of this particular hotel, and she said she would hook me up.
I had a great massaging shower, used the finest skin care products, and was ready to start my day in earnest.
I drove north to the Ft. Lauderdale area and met up with Private Man and his Manosphere meetup group.
Private Man was basically as expected; an older guy (compared to most of us in the Sphere), very opinionated with an air of Rush Limbaugh in his confident, bombastic way of speaking.
I also met his “ugly” dog Lucy.
The rest of the guys were nice, but it seemed to be the “Married Man Sex Life” crowd of divorced guys in their 40s.
We all shared some drinks and talked, but I didn’t feel the comraderie or wingmanship I previously had when I met FFY, Jack Frost, Gmac, Rookie, Danger & Play, etc.
After this, I cut out to see an elderly relative who lived nearby. I spent about 90 minutes with her, and she gave me a spare key and said I could come back and crash in her guest room that night if necessary.
I met up with a buddy of mine from my Israel trip last year who lives in the area. We got dinner, along with another friend of his, in a fairly cool neighborhood called Las Olas. I got the sense that the Ft. Lauderdale area was to Miami what Orange County is to LA: A less urban, more affluent suburb populated by more cougars and rich people, but still packing some talent and fun.
After dinner, we went to 3 bars:
The first was a nice but casual spot, where I met a sexy girl who soon had to admit she was married. She was visiting the two female friends she was at the bar with, and her husband was back home in upstate New York. She had been married less than a year.
Immediately I said, “You married girls are all so horny.” I laughed and pulled her in. She grinded into my leg and said “Ugh I know.”
I was still sitting on a stool and she was standing, and soon I had her turned around basically giving me a lapdance with her juicy caboosey.
Her friends tried to keep her from getting carried away. I asked her if she was happy with her husband. She said “He doesn’t pull my hair like you do.” I pulled her hair more as we danced, and her hand began tracing my cock through my pants.
But soon after, her mother hens pulled her away to leave the bar.
The next stop was an overpriced bar masquerading as a club and charging a $10 cover. The place was an ugly shithole, but at least the girls were dressed well.
I talked to a bunch of girls, and my buddy winged me so I could start grinding with one decent one. Soon her and her friend had to use the bathroom, and they disappeared.
I saw them standing at the bar later and re-engaged. I found them to be a much colder audience this time around. I couldn’t quite make out what my girl was yelling over the music, but after seeing the lack of comprehension on my face, she took out her cell phone.
She showed me a picture of a baby.
“BABY!!” she shouted.
“YOUR BABY??” I replied.
I nodded in understanding.
” I don’t think the baby’s daddy would appreciate me dancing with you anymore!”
I got the message.
The place closed soon after, an hour earlier than normal due to daylight savings taking effect.
We headed toward a different neighborhood, but all the guys in our crew started leaning toward calling it a night. At that moment I ran into three fairly cool (if older) guys from Private Man’s meetup.
So, taking a recommendation from my buddy, I continued on with this merry band and led them to a ghetto after-hours bar.
We walked in and I wanted to get off on my own to explore, and not be tethered to these guys, so we split up. I found a dance floor in the back, populated by all black people, and 3 blonde girls.
I swaggered up to my favorite blonde girl and just started talking to her on the dance floor. She was kind of just standing there, so we talked about how she didn’t like the music.
She went to the bathroom, and when she came back, walked right up to me and started grinding intensely.
The Private Man Crew wandered back and saw me, already grinding with a hot blonde, and I could see their jaws drop in awe. I was glad I got to put on a little clinic for them and uphold my reputation.
My girl went to the bathroom again and a different, less-cute-but-still-decent blonde started grinding her ass into me. I don’t know if my first girl saw, but she bypassed the dance floor and went back to the main room (toward the exit).
This new blonde girl stopped grinding on me and left with her group shortly after. I thought I might be screwed.
I walked out to find my first girl again. I did, and I backed up into an empty bar, pulled her into me, and we started making out heavily while I squeezed her ass.
It turned out her dorm was in the same area as my relative’s place, so I suggested we leave and I drive her home.
I said bye to the Private Man Crew and walked out with her, high-fiving one of the dudes as I went.
We lost a little momentum on the drive home. But I was still into it when we got back to her dorm and climbed up on her top bunk.
After a few minutes, she started resisting my escalation. Then she said, “I don’t think I can do this… I’m about to start a relationship with someone back home and it wouldn’t be right.”
Assuming she was telling the truth, that means the 3 girls I met in the 3 venues that night were 1) married, 2) with child, 3) had a boyfriend.
All these girls grinded with me and slutted it up. But I guess we can commend their chastity(?).
Eventually I gave up trying to restart escalation and headed home to jerk off in the home of a 93-year-old woman.
The next day I spent some relaxing time by the beach, ran into Private Man again, and then saw Shakira and her friends for a little while at a hotel rooftop pool.
Before I went to the airport, I managed to find a well-reviewed Chinese takeout joint, and scarf down some delicious east coast-style food. The difference between east coast and west coast Chinese food in the U.S. is like night and day. So I had some wonton soup (which they ruin with too many ingredients in LA), and crispy noodles with plenty of duck sauce (which, if you ask for in LA, they look at you like you have two heads).
The Chinese food might have been even more enjoyable than the sex, come to think of it.
But looking back overall, it was a really fun little getaway, and I’m psyched to get back to Miami again soon.